


our days are numbered (so count them well)

by palateens



Series: commissions [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: The blue couch is old and dingy. It’s halfway out the door with a broken leg and a ripped up back. Kent refuses to see it go because of the memories it holds.





	our days are numbered (so count them well)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ticktockclockwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/gifts).



Bitty is terrible at sleeping in bright lights. He gets up at seven AM because the light bounces off the building across the street just right, hitting him square in the face. He stretches, stifling a groan as his shoulder pops. 

He watches Kent and Jack cuddle beside him. Kent snores a bit, stopping when Jack pulls him closer to his chest. A breath gets stuck in his throat. They move so seamlessly together, reaching out for each other without having to think. Sometimes it feels like Bitty’s invading on their private moments, or like he’s a voyeur for something much bigger than him. 

Then again, there were times when Kent wasn’t in the picture. Bitty and Jack have plenty of their own history: gentle touches that barely brush against each other but communicate empathy and support, quick glances across the room reminding themselves that the other is still they’re, still...breathing. 

Bitty pads quietly to the living room. The skyscraper four blocks down only allows for certain slants of light. The laminate floors are new, but already a bit worn. Kent’s mother, Mariana, refused Kent’s offer of installing real hardwood floors. She insisted that they wouldn’t hold up well with the high traffic the apartment gets. She argued it would be too expensive to replace every few years and said not to bother. It seems that her predictions were accurate. 

The blue couch is old and dingy. It’s halfway out the door with a broken leg and a ripped up back. Kent refuses to see it go because of the memories it holds. It’s where he and his sister learned to stand on their own two feet, literally, and where Kent learned to spread his wings, figuratively. It’s where Jack found him one day not too long after they came out on national TV. 

_ No one had heard from Kent in months. His sister, Izzy, had been wary of letting them in, but Mariana ushered Jack toward the stairs without a second glance.  _

_ “It’s about time you showed up,” she said firmly.  _

_ Jack didn’t stop her, and neither did Bitty. He honestly didn’t know half of what was going on. He didn’t expect to find Kent Parson stuffing ice cream into his mouth, wearing nothing but short shorts and a sports bra that clung to his chest. He watched Jack’s shoulders sag.  _

_ “You still have that?” he said.  _

_ Kent shrugged. “I like the way it fits.”  _

_ “You had top surgery years ago,” Jack said.  _

_ “I had a lot of things years ago,” Kent muttered. “Your honesty was one of them.”  _

_ Jack huffed, sighing almost desperately. “Ken—” _

_ “Why are you here?”  _

_ Jack pried his eyes away from Kent long enough to glance at Bitty. They’d talked about this, a lot. Bitty was ready and willing. So all he could do was nod and lean against the doorframe as he watched Jack and Kent work things out. He watched them snap at each other and discuss. He watched Kent break down into tears as Jack said he still loved him. And of course, he watched Jack kiss Kenny fervently on that shitty blue couch like it was his dying breath.  _

Somehow, Bitty ended up in the same position a few weeks later, wondering how Kent Parson could be as deep as an ocean but look as shallow as a pond. 

Bitty sighs. It’s almost the end of the summer, and things will change. Kent will go back to Vegas, and Bitty will go back to school. He sluggishly tiptoes around the kitchen, grabbing the freshly brewed mug under the automated coffee maker. 

Kit runs to him, mewling as she wraps herself around him. He shakes his head, tiredly bending down to pet her. He gives her a few strokes around the ear and underneath her little chin before she scampers off to her automatic feeder. 

He yawns, resting his elbows against the newly remodeled island. The Haus will always be his home. But with less than a year left, he’s starting to wonder seriously about his future. What canvas will unfold in front of him, and which backdrop with inform his way of life? He isn’t going back to Georgia; he knows that for sure. 

Taking a long sip of blonde roast, he thinks about New York: not just the tourist trap that is Times Square, but the neighborhoods and shops, the packed sidewalks, and the hidden nooks and crannies. He thinks about the ferry rides around Ellis Island and the weekend trips up to Montauk. Bitty can practically hear the music booming in Kent’s favorite night club.

It isn’t just a city; it’s Kenny’s backyard. It’s the home that cobbled him into a beautiful, vibrant disaster of a human. 

Bitty sits down on the couch, wincing when it groans loudly. He turns his head slightly to look outside. The windows in Kent’s room give a perfect view of his great aunt’s flower shop. Bitty remembers the day he first stumbled in there. It was after an awkward, albeit successful, first date with Kent in early July. 

_ “Buenos días,” the shop keeper said. Her accent was thick and her hair thicker. Her skin was a warm terracotta, similar to Mariana.  _

_ He realized he’d been watching her for too long when she patiently asked.  _

_ “What can I do for you?”  _

_ He wrung his hands nervously, trying not to tug at his shirt collar. “I, uh, noticed your dahlias in the window and I was hoping I could get some for a bouquet.”  _

_ Her smile was blinding. “Ah, yes, let me grab some for you.”  _

_ “Are these for anyone special?”  _

_ “Yea…” _

_ “A boyfriend?” _

_ “Oh, um yea, a boyfriend,” or two, he doesn’t say.  _

_ She nods. “What colors does he like? Rojo, azul, morado?” _

_ “Blue,” he said, “uh, azul yo creo. Gosh, did I say that right?” _

_ “Eh, it could use a little practice,” she said with a laugh. “But you could say that about my English.”  _

_ “Oh no ma’am, your accent is gorgeous,” he insisted.  _

_ She smiled warmly. “Kenny said you were a nice boy. He was right.”  _

_ He blushes. “Eric Bittle, you can call me Bitty. Pleased to meet you ma’am.”  _

_ “Yolanda Vasquez,” she said in return.  _

_ Bitty watched her traipse gracefully around the room, asking for his input here and there but mostly taking charge. She added Queen Anne’s Lace for complexity, Hycinth for playfulness, and Sweet Pea for bliss (and Jack). It was masterful how she chose how many to pick and where to place them around the Dahlias.  _

_ She was just wrapping the stem in burlap and lace (that she swore Kent would love) when he came through the door.  _

_ “Yoli, por qué estás molestando mi novio?” Kent asked.  _

_ “Ay, no te quejas,” she said with a dismissive wave. “We were just having a nice chat, mi amor. Y mira, he was getting flowers for you, precioso.” _

_ Kent blushed as Yolanda shoved the bouquet in Bitty’s hands. Bitty awkwardly stepped closer to him, offering them slowly. _

_ “I, uh, had a lot of fun last night,” he said. “I’d love to do it again.”  _

_ The gobsmacked expression on Kent’s face faded quickly. He grinned in the kind of soft subtle way that Bitty’s only seen a handful of times in private, and almost never directed at him.  _

_ “C’mon, I’ll show you the best spot in the house,” Kent said as he took Bitty’s hand lightly.  _

_ He led Bitty up the stairs to the roof. The sun was still rising over the buildings in the distance, painting hues of orange and pink against crisp glistening sky scrapers. For all the noise pollution wiring around them, the city looked different from up above. It was in total synchronicity with itself. It was like a symphony of sites, with a chorus that crescendoed as the sunrise did. It was breathtaking.  _

_ “It’s gorgeous out here,” Bitty said.  _

_ Kent chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Not as much as you.”  _

Bitty snaps out of his daydreaming when the door to Kent’s bedroom creaks open. Kent comes stumbling out with Jack trailing behind. He throws himself onto the couch, curling up into Bitty’s side. Jack keeps walking toward the kitchen.

“Fucking sun,” Kent mutters. 

Bitty snorts. “You’re more of morning person than me.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I’m installing shutters tomorrow.”

“Sure, baby.” Bitty pats his head gently. “Just don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m not—”

“Kent,” Jack says from the kitchen. 

“...I’m not gonna do it myself. Happy?”

Jack grumbles, which means it’s good enough for him before his first cup of the day. Kent ignores him, burrowing deeper into the couch cushion as he uses Bitty’s shoulder for a pillow. 

“What are you doing up?” 

Missing something I haven’t even left yet, he doesn’t say. Wondering if long distance polyamory is even worth it. 

“Just...thinking about how much I’m going to miss it around here once school starts,” he says instead. 

“Aw babe, don’t worry,” Kent says, kissing his temple. “It’s here for you whenever you want. You’ve got a key for a reason. I want you to love this place as much as I do.” 

Jack makes his way back to the living room, settling down on the other side of Bitty. 

“It’s ok to be yourself here, that’s the best fucking part. Right Zimms?”

Jack nods, taking a sip out of his mug. “It’s something special, Bits. Staying here doesn’t have an expiration date.” 

Bitty nods, inhaling a mixture of their scents and freshly brewed coffee. 

“It sure is something,” he admits. 

Something like home. 

**Author's Note:**

> fic title - lyrics from Mind Hijacker's Curse by Chad VanGaalen
> 
> Thank you so much to ticktockclockwork for commissioning this fic! If you'd like to commission your own story, [find me on tumblr.](http://abominableobriens.tumblr.com/post/167437566167/15-for-15-commisions-for-15-ill-write-a-15k)


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